Agape
Here we meet, a company
plucked randomly
from every shore to dine,
to gather from the mind's full store,
enriched, aware of all the particles,
of spatial plain within, beyond—
we meet as if to pull together
this mysterious self
that breathes and breeds
inside the depths of God.
...that in such unity it makes
synoptic sight of that fantastic feast
that is the body and the blood
consumed for all of humankind,
the pagan and the child
untutored, bold
beneath the hands of Christ
...to meet...and to adore,
to fall upon our faces then
full-stunned to greet the Lord
inside our viscera, in every time
within our timeless souls.
...to meet, to know
there is no need to crush the grape
or bake the loaf, no need to speak
of sacrifice, atonement, penitence,
or fast before the board
thoughout the night.
We meet, quite helpless underneath
the fierce tenacity of love,
and thus it is that we are fed,
partaking of the fare of ragged mendicants
like Jesus and Siddartha,
unwashed royalty beneath the tree of light.
Then, chagrined to find our eyes
directed to the dust aound our feet
in self-determined shame
that such a little boy begins
to hand out fishes to
the multitude upon the earth,
we hoist our packs to make retreat,
and sigh,
and say
that there is still so much to learn
of Agape.
~
*in the universal sense, pronounced AH guh pay
Copyright © Robert Ludden | Year Posted 2012
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